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No, I don't want to be Friends.
If the rod that you had hit me in the face with
 was really a rod.
 and not you stomping on my heart.
 then my hideously marred face would resemble
 you as a person.
 And when the rod acquainting my nose
 Resembled the eruption at Pompeii.
 And the children being charbroiled in lava,
 Ran screaming in unfathomable agony
 In and out every pore of my body
 I would simply ask that I may only hold you closer
 So that you may cool everybody off.

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